From the Shadows
by Kyoyama Daphne
Summary: The seasons have changed; the pebbles have lain still for more than two years. But with the shadows of a forgotten enemy lurking over the two, they'll see that what they left behind is starting to catch up to them. Sequel to "Behind The Wall"
1. Prologue

_/a.n./ Well you see, I've been procrastinating fort the last couple of weeks. I know so many stories that got ruined because of a sequel; and honestly I was a little afraid. A lot of people reviewed and messaged me, asking if there was a sequel; and at first I couldn't reply. But in the end, I realized that I had never intended for "Behind the Wall" to be a completed story; and I don't want to leave it unfinished. So here it is; the sequel. I hope this won't be a disappointment, and I promise I will do my best to make it good. Thank you!_

**Disclaimer:** I will only do this once. I do not own Inuyasha. All rights go to Rumiko Takahashi & Co. and VIZ Media.

**Rated (M) for:** Violence, language, alcohol use and other implied things.

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**Prologue**

_**Mie-Nara Border, Daiko Mountain Range 34 **__**° 03'04''N - 136° 06'23''S**_

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"Subject one-oh-nine was found dead by a Subway in Kyoto." the assistant reported, holding up a small screen. The man in front of him glowered.

"And the cause of his death?" he asked.

"Heart attack, that's what the hospital saidanyway," He checked the screen again, then punched in a couple of codes. A picture flashed on the screen. Under it, the caption "_Subject 109" _was printed in bold letters.

" I think otherwise though…" he added, holding up the screen for the other man to see.

He looked at it for a while, scrutinizing the image. "Zoom into his arm." The assistant did as he was told and worked on the screen for a couple of seconds. The man smiled.

"It seems your assumptions were true," he said, pointing at the screen. The assistant looked, he understood. There, right on his forearm was a light pink scar. The picture had been taken mere hours before his death. It was no surprise that the doctors hadn't realized anything – it looked like an ordinary scar.

The man smirked. "Any other similar incidents?" The assistant shook his head.

"Very well then, keep the surveillance going. If you miss any details, the next thing you'll be missing is your heart."

He waited for him to finish his sentence and say "-beat". Heartbeat. But he didn't. Cold sweat broke across the assistant's forehead. He nodded once, swallowing – then walked out the double doors.

The man sighed and sunk back into his chair, listening as his assistant's footsteps slowly faded away. It was tiresome to train new assistants, but the old one had known far too much. It was never good to know too much. Replacements could be made. And he had planned it all out nicely; and so far – none of his plans had failed.

With a bit of… hmm … _persuasion – _he had managed to get the Daichii Power Plant to provide the electricity they needed to keep the building running. He had made sure that they would be impossible to track down.

Somewhere in a bank database; there was a fake signature of a fake billionaire who had a fake villa in this mountain range- to explain why there were cables running to this spot. Nobody would be able to trace anything back to him; because he was dead to the rest of the world. He had made absolutely sure that nobody would ever track any _incidents _back to him ever again. Perhaps the government would be able to, but that didn't matter in the slightest. 

He wheeled over to the opposite wall, and flicked a switch. Immediately, a massive screen lit up. A world map was clearly displayed on the screen, and hundreds of red spots marked places all around it. The largest concentration of dots was located around Japan, and Eastern Asia. The rest were scattered all around the globe. This was why they took precautions. It would have been impossible to reach them all, at least manually, if they hadn't planned ahead.

He decided to have a little fun. It had been a boring day after all. He tapped on one of the spots, watching as the screen morphed into a satellite image of a young man, sitting at a table – at, he assumed, a restaurant. A name flashed under the screen, along with the coordinates and the number 348.

He pulled out a microphone from the control panel beneath the screen and held it close to his mouth, smiling.

"_Hello Naoki." _He said menacingly.

His voice reached him very clearly. He watched as the man on the screen looked around, obviously searching for the source of the voice.

"_No need to look around Naoki, I'm right here."_ He saw him stiffen. His eyes darted around the restaurant, but saw nothing.

"_You can stop looking around now. You won't see me."_ He said, his amusement starting to seep into his tone. The man on the screen began to quiver. He watched as Naoki's hand flew to his head. His eyes darted around nervously, still looking for the source of the voice.

He wouldn't find one of course.

He tapped on the screen again, already bored with his little game. The screen transformed back into the map. That would give dear Naoki enough fright as it was. He chuckled to himself. He would keep an eye on _Subject 348_, just for the hell of it. The poor man probably thought he was going mad.

He lay back in his chair, pushing a long lock of jet black hair behind his ear. He shut his eyes in satisfaction. It was so easy to scare those idiots. All it took was a little microphone and… well a couple of other things that he had already established years ago.

Had that imbecile thought that it would be so easy to finish him off? Maybe his head really _was_ as thick as it had seemed. Of course he had had to make certain sacrifices – but it was all for the big picture. As he raised his left hand, a piece of metal caught the dim light in the room, and it glinted faintly. He frowned. He still wasn't entirely used to his metal hand; but he supposed that it was better than none at all. A couple more parts of his body had been – renewed; but his hand was the most noticeable.

Ah well, it was all worth it in the end.

He tapped on another red dot on the screen – one that was moving in the direction of Osaka. Another satellite image popped up along with a name, some changing coordinates, and the number 72. The man's grin got wider. His hand reached for the microphone again; but he stopped abruptly. The man on the screen was all alone. It was easy, too easy… And where was the fun it that?

He stared at the screen for a little while, watching as the subject sat in his empty train compartment, staring at a piece of paper. He smirked, and tapped the screen again; closing the image.

_Subject 72_ would find out what happened to those who ran. Very, very soon.

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	2. Picking Up

**Chapter 1**

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"Scotch with rocks" the man said, leaning against the polished dark wood counter. I nodded at him and reached for the bottle; then poured it deftly into the ice-filled glass. I slid it across the counter to the man, who took a quick swig then slammed the glass back down. I watched as the amber liquid swished, running up and down the sides.

The room was filled with the buzz of drunken conversations. Pouring drinks was fine, but I had no particular love for dealing with drunk people. Though when you think about it, that's probably one of the main job requirements of working at a bar. It was okay though. Half witted bulky men were something I was used to. The bar never got overly crowded, being in a more secluded part of Iwaki. I was grateful for that. Even if I _was _used to it; it still wasn't exactly pleasant to be serving a barrage of drunken idiots.

The man downed the scotch then asked for another; and I gave it to him a little reluctantly. The eighth glass always does the trick, huh? He was out before he could even finish it. Admittedly, he looked a bit pathetic with his head slumped against his arms and drool dripping out of his open mouth.

I felt a little sorry for him. It would take either a lot of stupidity or a lot of pain to down eight glasses of scotch – or maybe he was an alcoholic. Either way, it was sad. I looked at him, brows raised, half expecting him to jolt upright any moment. He didn't – big surprise. Shaking my head, I moved to the next customer. Minutes dragged by sluggishly. I couldn't help but let my eyes travel to the clock on the wall every once in a while; which only resorted to make time go by slower.

Eyeing the now _snoring_ man one last time, I sunk into one of the low stools that sat behind the counter. A can of beer stood on the table, and I snatched it up. It was an odd relief to be able to drink without the fear of being murdered. They had always given drinks at the camps – I am yet to understand exactly why – but I had never been one to jump on them. The risk of chairs, fists, legs, rocks, and any other strategic objects being hurled at me had always been too big to ignore.

Now though; now it was easy. I felt the cool liquid sliding down my throat and heating my insides. It was always a pleasant feeling, though I couldn't say the same about the dizziness that came after. Maybe it was a force of habit; but it made me weary.

I checked the clock again, then breathed a sigh of relief when I saw that my shift would be over in less than five minutes. The back door opened, and a tall man with hint of stubble stepped in, sporting a wrinkled blue shirt. Aizawa, my fellow bartender. He lingered in the doorway for a couple of moments, before settling his eyes on mine.

"Bar's yours man." I said, bumping my shoulder against his on my way out. A chilly December breeze had picked up; and I gulped in a good amount of air. It was a nice change after the choked up air of the bar, where the smells of cigarettes and alcohol mingled and almost suffocated you. I climbed up the narrow steps on the side wall of the building. Pushing the wooden door at the top open, I emerged into my makeshift "apartment".

It wasn't what you would call luxurious, but it was enough. I flung my hat across the room, made my way to my mattress and threw myself on it, closing my eyes. The old springs screeched in protest, but I ignored them utterly, burying my face into my pillow. I could still hear the droned out voices emanating from the bar below. These were the times I detested my demon heritage. Pressing the edges of my pillow to my ears; I tried to pry my attention away from the sounds.

I was glad to have this place – I would be on the streets if I didn't. It was a good enough deal I had made with the manager. I would work at the bar all day; and in exchange I would get this room above it, plus a little cash for food. The deal had worked perfectly for the last four months; and it had given me a roof to live under.

I turned around and faced the wall, tracing cracks with my eyes. I was dead tired, but for some reason my brain had decided to keep me awake a little further. I sighed inwardly, and decided to do what I always did. Reaching under the mattress, I groped around dust puffs until my hand brushed against a familiar piece of paper. I grabbed it and pulled it out slowly, afraid to damage it. Her scent had worn off a little more, now mixed with that of dust- but it was still distinguishable.

I smoothed it out against the wall, and read its contents in the light that streamed in from my cracked window. One verse always seemed to catch my attention more that the others.

"_No place among others_

_No air I'm allowed to breath_

_But I'll keep my chin high,_

_Until the moment I succeed"_

It was as if she had _known _that I would find it. I read the poem over and over again, though I had memorized it long before. It was…comforting, almost. More than that, it made me remember someone I couldn't afford to forget.

Xxx

Morning found me sprawled across my mattress, with one leg on the floor, one leg tangled in my flimsy sheets, and arms bent at opposite angles. I groaned into my pillow and tried to flip around so I could breathe properly – which only opted to make me fall of the edge and end up plastered on the cold floor. What a way to wake up.

Untangling my feet from my sheets, I got up slowly. Light streamed in from the cracked window. I looked outside, to the gray sky that held the makings of a bleak, dreary day. That's December for ya. If it's freezing, you get snow. If it gets a bit warmer, you're faced with overcast skies and mud.

As I reached for my dresser, I became aware of the fact that I had fallen asleep in the clothes of the previous day. After giving myself a quick once over and dusting off my wrinkled shirt; I made my way to the small bathroom near the door. I banished the idea of taking a shower immediately– no need to freeze my ass of so early in the morning – and settled for splashing my face to wake up.

My shift didn't start until eleven, and I had no particular love for breathing in the choked up air of the bar more than necessary. Grabbing my coat, I clambered down the iron stairs and started walking; aiming for downtown Iwaki. I really didn't enjoy crowded places much; but there weren't any decent yet affordable places to eat at in Ueda. At least not that I knew of. I walked down the streets, mostly trying to avoid large crowds. Finally rounding a corner, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the little café I usually opted for when I couldn't think of anywhere else. I pushed the door open, listening to the bell chime – signaling my arrival.

A middle aged man greeted me from behind a counter. I nodded curtly, ordered some rolls and took a seat. The place didn't have the best food, but it was decent enough. Grabbing the newspaper someone had oh-so-conveniently left lying on the table, I started to flip through the pages in pursuit of something remotely interesting.

After reading through some death stories - a man on the subway, woman killed by overly-attached husband, multiple car accidents – and skimming through articles on politics that really couldn't interest me less; my food arrived. I scarfed it down quickly, practically emptying it straight into my mouth without even chewing. Food tastes better when you're hungry, I've heard. I paid for my breakfast idly and walked out. It had started to drizzle and I hoped I wouldn't get soaked by the time I reached the bar.

For once, luck had decided to favor me. The downpour didn't start until I was safely under a roof. No customers had arrived yet, to my absolute and utter joy; so I simply sat myself upon the comfy-ish couch behind the counter and took a bottle of beer from the fridge. Leaning back, I closed my eyes. Nobody else was here. The manager was still on his extended holiday to Osaka, and Aizawa had already left before I got back. I would say that called for a little after-breakfast nap. My bliss cut short, when the door opened to reveal a soaked figure standing at the threshold...

I groaned inwardly and peeled myself off the couch, taking a swig from the beer. The man was now inside, and for the first time, I could see his face. My eyes fixed on his. I felt the bottle slip from my grasp. It hurtled to the ground, spraying its contents everywhere, and crashed in a mess of broken glass.

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_/a.n./ I just love cliffies! A special thanks to __**ninjamidori**__ for encouraging me to finish this chapter today with her lovely message! For some unknown reason, fanfiction isn't letting me reply to PM's today, so I just thought I'd give her my thanks here ;) Reviews are loved! _

_/a.n./ Please review!_


	3. Where We Left Off

_**/a.n./ Sorry for the long gap between chapters; I am trying to get into a boarding school, and quite frankly I'm freaking out. Plus, I had a bad case of writers block –so I've been struggling to write this chapter for a while now… I hope it turned out alright, or at least not horrible–Anyways, enough with my ranting…Remember, reviews encourage me!**_

**.**

**Chapter 2**

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_Kagome's POV_

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There was one thing I knew for sure that morning: I didn't want to get up. And I mean I _really _didn't even want to move. But this is _me _we're talking about here – so I had to. Groaning into my pillow, I flipped over in my bed, and was momentarily blinded by the light that flooded through my window. Why hadn't I closed the blinds? I groaned again, this time louder, and kicked the sheets off myself in agitation – ultimately giving up on my plan to sleep in today. Not that it was possible anyway, given the circumstances.

Even in this dreary weather, it was too bright. Heaving a sigh, I dragged myself out my room and into the bathroom down the corridor. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the sink. My eyes were still a bit puffy and sporting dark circles, but other than that I looked pretty much fine. I went about the everyday actions of brushing my teeth, washing my face, and trying – but failing – to flatten my hair; before taking the liberty in covering up the dark circles to the best of my ability. Finally happy with my reflection, I headed back to my room.

I eyed the dress on the hanger. Black – how cliché. It was simple enough, though the cut hinted at designer origins. I pulled it on idly; then grimaced when I saw the high heels sitting on the corner of my desk. I slipped them on oh-so-reluctantly, inwardly rolling my eyes at my sister's take on appropriate attire for a death anniversary.

Breakfast wasn't exactly my favorite meal of the day – so instead I opted for some coffee. Maybe t would wake me up a bit. As I sipped my coffee, I decided to check my voice mail for the first time in three days. The first one was from two days ago, but turned out to be nothing more than a friend calling to say hi. I ignored it. The second was from this morning, and from my agent.

"_Kagome. You have an interview at 11 o'clock, Sunday. Just come to my office, don't be late. And why won't you pick up your phone? Call me."_

I sighed. So I had an interview tomorrow. Not exactly how I wanted to spend my Sunday morning. I decided to call him anyway, just to have something to do. I dialed his number and waited as the phone rang.

"_Hello?" _

"Good morning Kouga."

"_Kagome! Hi! Did you get my message?" _

"Um..yeah, anything else?" There was a pause as I waited for his answer.

"_No.. I just.. wanted to see if you were okay.."_

"I'm fine," I started, not entirely truthfully. "Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

I hung up, not wanting the conversation to drag on any longer. Chugging the last of my coffee, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I still lived in the small apartment I had bought a couple years back. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was familiar. People – specifically my agent – had tried to convince me to buy a bigger place; but honestly I just never felt like it.

My car stood parked right off the road. I slid in and slammed the door behind me, throwing my bag on the passenger side seat. I hoped it wouldn't rain anytime soon – though with my luck, there would probably be a storm tonight.

I pulled into my parents drive, and saw that Sango was waiting for me at the front steps. I smiled at her as I approached. I had never been too close to my sister; but today wasn't the day for meaningless arguments. She smiled back, to my surprise. Her hair was impeccable, not a single strand out of place. The same thing went for her dress – black, like mine – and ironed to the point where you would need a microscope to spot any wrinkles. Turning on her heel, she led me inside.

A small group of people had gathered in the wide living room. Aside from a few whispered conversations, the room was silent. I saw my mother by the window, and she turned as she heard us approach.

"Kagome." She said, voice cracking. She smiled, making the corners of her eyes crinkle. I studied her face carefully. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and like me – there were circles under her eyes.

"Hi mom." I said, managing a sort of half smile of my own.

"We can start now," she said, turning towards the other people who had already started to stand up. Sango led us out of the house and into the back garden. It had been so long since I had last been here, and it was a bittersweet feeling to me back after so much time. The little family shrine was just as it had always been.

My mother walked in front as we entered through the ornately carved gates. I realized she had a small basket in her hands; one I hadn't noticed before. She stopped in front of a tablet. Slowly, she took something out of the basket and lit it. A soothing smell wafted around the room, filling me. I breathed in deep, willing it to clear my mind. Lavender. My father had always loved lavender.

The ceremony was customary, nothing different. Symbolic objects were placed on the altar, and well wishes were given.

By the time my mother had finished her prayers, most of the people had cleared out of the shrine. I stood stiffly in the middle of the quad, with Sango a little way away from me, crying silently. For whatever reason, I found myself unable to cry in front of other people. It was a force of habit really…

Slowly, the shrine began to empty. I watched as Sango walked out too, followed by my mom, then my brother Souta. I couldn't bring myself to leave. Not yet. I stood there, staring at the tablet as the incense slowly burned away. The smell of lavender lingered in the room though; and when I looked around, I saw that I was the only one left in the shrine.

I felt my throat begin to tighten, and for the first time since I got here, I let a couple of tears escape. I had never been close to my dad, either. Maybe that was why I always felt so depressed when his death anniversary was near. I felt guilty – guilty for keeping away from him. Then I felt mad; because he had never made a move to close that distance either. And he had been gone for almost two years now, but I still couldn't bring myself to move past those feelings.

Maybe because it had been so sudden… so unexpected. I brushed the tears away from my eyes as everything that had happened played in my mind. First the shock of it all; crouching in the corner as guns went off around me; seeing people fall to the ground, wondering if I would be one of them… Then the aftershock – seeing the bodies scattered around the office floor, laying on broken glass and debris; watching others' panic. Then seeing my father propped up against the wall, blood seeping through his clothes…

Seeing my dad in a coma a day after, visiting him in the hospital… Then, the final decision. Pulling the plug after four months. Seeing my mom; my strong, haughty mother; broken.. beaten… The nightmares that followed… It wasn't what I would have wanted, obviously.

I felt someone clutch my hand, and looked up to see Sango next to me. For the first time in a long time, maybe ever, I was glad to be in such close proximity with my sister. We stood there for a while, just staring at the tablet. Sango tugged on my arm a little, and I knew it was time to go.

"He loved you, you know," she said in a small voice as we walked back to the house. I chewed on my lip, thinking.

"Huh…" I said finally, mostly because I had nothing else to say. Everything I thought of saying just seemed redundant, meaningless even.

When we reached the house, people were scattered around the living room; some clutching steaming cups of tea in their hands. I found my mother in front of the window again, and went to stand next to her.

"Thank you for coming Kagome…" she whispered. I didn't answer. I knew what she meant though. _Thank you for coming Kagome, even though you probably hate us…_

I put my hand on her shoulder for a moment; then walked towards the door, giving a wave that most likely went unseen. I looked back at my house to see Sango looked out the window. I gave her another small wave and turned the key in the ignition.

Traffic was horrific – ah the perks of Saturdays in Tokyo! It took me more than an hour to get home, and by the time I reached my front door I was extremely frustrated, and not to mention tired. Throwing my bag on the table, I headed for my room, where I ripped my shoes and dress off and threw myself on my bed.

I curled an arm over my eyes, attempting to block out the light. No, today was definitely not my favorite day.


	4. Guest

_/a.n./ I realized it had been over 2 weeks since I last updated… I hope you guys aren't losing faith in me… It's going to be hard for me to update frequently this summer, so I apologize up hand. But hopefully, once school kicks in and I get used to the whole boarding school concept, I'll get back on track.__  
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**Chapter 3**

_Inuyasha's' POV_

You know how you meet someone, spend some time with them; then something happens and you think you'll never see them again - you think they're completely out of your life, and you start to forget. And then they very conveniently stumble into your workplace wearing a tattered raincoat; soaked from head to toe?

Those are the moments where I wish I could bring my jaw back up to the position it was intended to be in.

But, to no avail - in continued to hang open, just as I thought it would. Because it's not every day you see a fellow inmate walk into a bar thousands of miles away from where you last left them. It tends to surprise a guy_. A lot._

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I practically yelled.

"Inuyasha you stupid fuck." He grumbled as he stepped into the bar, ignoring my question.

Well that's one way to say hello. _Wait what? Why did he..? Oooh…_ That was when I realized the beer remnants on the floor, accompanied by a mess of broken glass. Well wasn't that just lovely?

"Nice to see you too Miroku."

He walked towards me - or maybe towards the counter - I couldn't tell. The normal thing to do would probably be to engage in a manly half-hug, maybe a slap on the back, couple of punches or something. What did we do? We just stood there awkwardly until I remembered the mess on the floor.

Grabbing a broom from the back cabinet, I started to sweep the broken glass behind the counter; then threw an old towel on the floor to suck up the beer. Miroku watched me in silence. I didn't blame him. What could he have said?

Engaging in these oh-so-fun activities managed to take my mind off questions like: _"What the hell is Miroku doing in Iwaki?"_ and _"How the hell did he find me?" _and the more prominent – _"What the hell am I supposed to do?"._

I decided to leave those questions on standby for now. You see, making conversation isn't exactly my forte. When he spoke, it was quiet. "I thought you were dead," he said, staring at the beer-soaked towel. "You never came back to the common room after you went into the tunnels."

"Yeah... I got involved in..things" I said, wiping my hand on my jeans. I didn't want to tell him that I got into the mass murder scheme. Of course he was a perverted maniac, maybe even a rapist – probably one with enough psychotic blood to be able to categorize mass murder as "normal". But I still wasn't comfortable with telling him, or anyone for that matter.

"Yeah me too."

"What kind of things?" _Did I really want to know..?_

"Been on the run for a while. Lived with my uncle little out of Aomori at first - he's a drug dealer. Cops got too close, been moving for a couple of months.. Fucked some girls on the way."

He snickered on the last sentence, momentarily distracted by memories I could go without knowing about. Huh. I guess some people never change. But holy hell did he descend from a family of criminals?! Maybe that's what's wrong with criminals. Have a messed up family, get a messed up kid. Maybe that's how most things work today...

"Well you've been busy."

"How 'bout you?"

I rolled my eyes, jabbing index finger towards the floor. "This is where I've been."

I walked back to my couch behind the counter and plopped down. Miroku followed me. I didn't bother to point out that he wasn't allowed to come back here - you can't tell an inmate where to stand (learned that the hard way). He leant against the counter, fixing his eyes on me.

"Really? You haven't done anything?" He asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively. I twisted my lips to the side, looked up and tapped my chin in an exaggerated "thinking face".

"I might have stolen a couple of beers from the fridge..?"

Miroku burst out laughing, clutching the counter for support as his loud guffaws echoed around the empty bar.

"You..really..don't have..a..bad...bone..in you..body..do you?" He managed to say between laughs.

"At least I ain't running from the cops you idiot."

He seemed to calm down a bit at that. "They won't be wasting their time with a drug dealer's nephew Inuyasha." He said nonchalantly. I narrowed my eyes.

"There are thousands of cops in Japan Miroku, at least a couple of them should be able to go after you?

"I don't think I'm their primary concern."

Well hot damn isn't this a nice turn of conversation? One minute we're talking about stealing beer, the next we're discussing police priorities.

"Then what is?" I asked out of genuine curiosity.

"There have been deaths.. A lot of them, and some look like they've been staged. Car accidents, robberies, gang attacks - but it's all kind of sketchy"

"Any proof?"

"No, that's why the police won't bother with me - at least not at this moment. They're still investigating."

He paused for a second, probably thinking to himself. I decided to stay silent. I had seen some stories in the papers, but I had never been particularly interested in murder cases. Heck, people died every day right? Plus, I had seen enough people die in front of my eyes already; I didn't need to read about it too.  
"Let's hope so." I said finally. He nodded, and then his expression morphed into a smug smile with a mischievous glint.

"So, enough talk about cops, let me tell you about the girls I f-"

Not in my craziest dreams would I have anticipated that a group of girls could ever save me from anything. Especially not from Miroku's endless rants about his…"conquests", let's call them. I guess today is the universe's day to prove me wrong.

To my utter relief, the door to the bar opened, revealing five people - all girls, all relatively pretty.  
Miroku didn't even get to finish his sentence. The pervert's jackpot - 5 hot girls at a bar.

I watched as said pervert's head whipped back and forth between me and the table where the five were seated.

"Go 'head" I said, trying to suppress my smirk. He probably saw it anyway; and if he did, he ignored it.

Sprinting towards the table, I watched as he spontaneously jumped into a conversation with them. The girls all seemed genuinely pleased at his sudden appearance. Bonus for Miroku. He walked back to the bar, the smug smile plastered on his face growing exponentially.

"Two gin and tonics, a glass on white wine and three beers!" he said almost triumphantly.

"Seriously man? It's the middle of the day." I said skeptically. Of course, I was the one attempting to down a beer when he decided to walk in – but that's another story.

"It's never too early for some action." He sneered, winking at me. Oh. Now it made sense. In a twisted _I-am-getting-these-girls-drunk-because-I-want-to-bang-them-all_ kind of way, but I guess that's the only sense Miroku has…

I poured the drinks half-heartedly; trying to waste as much time as possible in the process. Maybe one of the girls would get bored and leave or something – that would be the smart thing to do. Apparently, smart girls tend to skip past this bar.

"Inuyasha. If you're always this slow, it's no wonder this place is all but empty." Miroku said, after I had cleverly spent five whole minutes opening a bottle of wine. I shrugged, inwardly snickering.

Countless drinks later – all poured veeery slowly for the record – Miroku was still sitting at the table, and the five girls were still all there. I mean how stupid can you get, really? As if on cue, one got up, followed by a smirking Miroku. I watched as he leant in and whispered something inaudible into her ear, making her blush. They walked towards the door as the remaining four girls broke into what seemed to be a never ending fit of giggles.

Just as they were walking out the door, Miroku turned back and winked at me. I gave him a disgustingly enthusiastic thumbs up that he responded to with a grin.  
"He's cute." I heard one of the girls say as the door to the bar closed shut. The one to her left nodded vigorously. Seriously. How the hell did he _do_ that?!

Aside from the obvious womanizing aspect that annoyed me to no end, Miroku's arrival gave me a sliver of hope. If he could just turn up out of the blue, why not Kagome?  
It was a comforting thought - to think that she would just walk right through the door one day.

Maybe I was delusional, but that possibility seemed much much bigger now.

.  
_/a.n./ I re-wrote this chapter about four times, but I hope it turned out okay. Remember, reviews are loved, and honestly they're my only encouragement._


	5. Prickling

/a.n./ My dear readers; between summer heat, bad cases of writer's block and packing for the dorm (eep!) I am happy to finally get some writing done. This chapter goes out to **alexischic** for encouraging me throughout my heart-breakingly long gaps between updates. Thanks love! Again, I must apologize…

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**Chapter 4**

**.**

_Kagome's POV_

_._

I decided to walk to Kouga's office that morning, just to do something out of the ordinary. Plus, I had never been the biggest fan of Tokyo's morning rush hour traffic. Walking calmed me, and heaven knew I needed a lot of that these days.

The streets were bustling with all sorts of people running in different directions. 9 am – not the best time to be in downtown Tokyo. I considered taking the bus, but quickly decided against it, seeing as there was a huge crowd of people gathering around the bus stop. I didn't like crowds, they seemed to suffocate me. The thought put an irritating lump in my throat, bringing back memories of my favorite getaway from crowds. The wall.

I flung the thought to a more secluded part of my mind, mentally throwing a rug over it. I would revisit that thought later. _Much _later.

There seemed to be an abundance of people in suits today. I didn't particularly like suits. They seemed to me like a cry for attention. _Oooh look at me the important person! I'm wearing a freakin suuiitt! _

Maybe it was just because my boss used to wear a suit every day. Maybe. Annoying people leave annoying memories, I've noticed.

I stopped at the pedestrian crossing, waiting for the light to turn green. Something prickled at the back of my neck. I looked around, expecting to see some kind of threat. Just when I was about to pass it as a fluke, I realized someone was staring at me from the opposite side of the sidewalk. Well this was awkward. I looked around, trying to see if he was staring at something else; something behind me perhaps? Nope. Nothing. I shifted my gaze back to the man, seeing that his stare hadn't faltered. Wasn't it considered rude to stare at someone for that long in public? No?

I realized he was wearing a – you guessed it - gray suit. Just peachy. Guy in a suit staring at me like I'm some sort of freak. What more could I ask for? The light turned green a moment later, and I crossed the road at a fast pace, ducking my head down as I passed him. Maybe he was some kind of psyco? Or maybe he was just…looking? I blushed a little at the thought…

Kouga's office wasn't huge, but it was well designed and elegant. "Kagome!" he greeted me as I walked through the wide glass doors. He curved an arm around my waist as he led me to a room in the back of the office. Kouga was a… _sincere_ person. I appreciated it at most times, but sometimes it was downright annoying. Opening the door, I saw that a woman sat in a low couch in the corner of the room, a large black box in her hand

"This is Kotoko, she's here to spruce you up a bit," he said adding a quiet: "Not that you need it, ofcourse." With a wink as he left the room.

"Not too much." I said as I seated myself in a chair in front of the mirror. I closed my eyes, willing the minutes to tick by. The woman worked on my face for a good 20 minutes before stepping back and smiling triumphantly. I took a peek at the mirror. I thought I didn't look any different that I usually did, but what did I know, right? Nevertheless, I thanked her, and left the room; heading towards the wide sitting room.

"Kagome, this is Akitoki Hojo, he'll be interviewing you today." said Kouga as he saw me approach. He brushed past me, whispering an almost inaudible "you look beautiful" as he walked by. I huffed, then composed myself and smiled at Mr. Hojo. He was young, probably around my age, but there was a boyish look to his face. More cute than handsome, with light brown tresses falling into his eyes.

"Shall we?" he asked, gesturing towards the leather couches. I nodded and took my place. _It's just an interview. It's just an interview. It's just an interview._ Hojo clicked the recorder, and the red light flashed twice._ Relax. Breathe. _

"So I'd like to start out by saying that I'm a big fan of your book. I want to ask you a couple of questions, it that okay?"

I nodded. "Thank you. Of course."

"Who was your inspiration for the male protagonist of the story – Jun's love interest?"

I gulped. Now how do I answer that question… I reached for my glass of water on the coffee table, chugging down half of it. _Inuyasha…_ NO! I can't say that… Crap.

"Ms. Higurashi?"

I set the glass down a little too hastily. "Ooh, thirsty." I said, plastering on a smile that even felt fake to me. Double crap. "Well, there wasn't anyone specific really," I chirped, my voice coming out way higher than it should have. Triple Crap.

"So you're saying there is absolutely _nobody _that you created him after?" he pushed, looking at me intently.

"Nope!" My voice ripped up an octave. Quadruple crap. Hojo cocked en eyebrow at me, skeptical.

"Next question?"

"Right then, how did you first start writing?"

"Well I used to write poetry, then one day, I just thought what the heck? The idea just sort of popped into my head abruptly, and I decided to put it to good use."

Hojo nodded, tapping his chin with his index finger. "Have you ever signed the book for someone special? Like a celebrity or something?"

I thought about that for a moment. I had signed the book for total stranger, a couple of close friends, and _someone else_; but no celebrities to the best of my knowledge.

"No, I don't think so," I replied idly.

"Was there any part of the book that you found particularly difficult to write?"

I felt my throat closing up. I tried to swallow, but it was like I had tried to swallow a rock and it had gotten stuck there. I reached for my water again, draining it then setting it down on the table with a thud. This was my least favorite question so far. Swallowing seemed to be a bit easier now, but my voice still came out choked when I spoke.

"Well I guess it'll have to be the part where.. Jun's..father..died?"

The last part came out as a question. I reached for the glass again, hoping to catch a couple more stray droplets. A couple dripped down onto my tongue, but didn't really do much to help. Hojo seemed to sense my discomfort, to my relief.

He moved on from that question, asking me a bit about my personal life, my hobbies and whatnot. Then, once more, he opted to pressure me into revealing my (nonexistent) boyfriend. And once more, I had to tell him that I _did not fricken have one._ Is this what I get for writing a romance novel?!

The interview was brief, luckily; and after we got a few photos taken I was free to go. I breathed a sigh of relief as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

"Kagome!"

Uggh. I so didn't want to get bogged down in this right now.

"Yes Hojo?"

Hojo ran up to me, panting just a little bit. He looked almost…shy? "I was wondering if you would like to grab some coffee or something?" he suggested, a look of genuine hope radiating off his face. Quintuple crap.

"Umm actually, I'm meeting someone today, so maybe another time…" I said, smiling a little reluctantly. His smile faltered. "You said you weren't seeing anyone?" he said, I hint of accusation lacing his tone.

"A _friend."_

"_Oh. _Maybe another time then." He concluded, flashing a smile that made it abundantly clear that he was going to try and make that "other time" happen. And soon.

Maybe I should just stay away from interviews.

Ayame was waiting for me when I walked into the café, instantly recognizable from her flaming red hair.

"Hey!" I greeted her as I plopped down into the plush couch across from her and dumped my bag on my lap

"Hey yourself" she said, smiling. "I ordered you mocha." I took said mug from the table and took a sip, licking my lips appreciatively.

"So how've you been since the last time I saw you?" I asked, attempting to make small talk.

"How is _Kouga?" _she asked dreamily, completely ignoring my question. I rolled my eyes. Ayame had had a crush on Kouga for forever; and Kouga was very much aware of that fact. She was persistent with it too. It was kind of funny to watch them.

"Well _I _am fine thank you very much for asking," I started in mock hurt "…and I'm sure Kouga is doing just fine as well."

She giggled like a little girl. That was one of the things I liked most about Ayame. She had a strong silent side, and a childish side to her; it was refreshing, really. Once her fit of giggled was over, I saw her eyes go wide for a second, then she leaned over.

"There is guy in the table behind us staring at you." She whispered, giggling a little. "And he's _hot!" _

I froze. _Could it be Hojo?!_ Rising up slowly, I walked to the opposite side of the café in a fake pursuit for sugar. I risked a glance at the opposing table. Sure enough, there was a man in a –wait for it – suit sitting right behind us. Not Hojo, thank god! He looked kind of secret agent-y; with a wire attached to his ear like the ones you see in spy movies. And yes, maybe he was a little...handsome. Overall, he looked pretty harmless to me.

I walked back to our table and sat down nonchalantly. Ayame raised her eyebrow; and I shrugged. Tokyo was a crowded city. There were bound to be a couple of creepers here and there. It was probably just a coincidence that two (and a half, if you counted Hojo) had found me today. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that they were connected somehow. It was ridiculous, I knew. So I'm paranoid, sue me!

It wasn't hard to get distracted with Ayame's easy chatter and the droned out conversations of the café customers. And of course, I had my chocolate to distract me - you can never get too much chocolate. Too much chocolate is an oxymoron. I didn't think about the two guys in the suits again. It remained as a slight prickling sensation on the back of my neck, and nothing more.

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	6. Suits

_/a.n./ What's that?! Daphne actually updated…..fast? It's the end of the world! ! It's the apocalypse! ! Take cover! Okay, all jokes aside, today is my birthday, so I decided I would write a chapter, even though I am insanely tired right now. I have a cookie ready for anyone who can guess my correct age! :D I'll be gone for about a week (maybe 10 days) after this, so I wanted to squeeze in an update; and I want this to symbolize new chapters and updates for this new year for me. This chapter goes to __** ;**__ as a thank you to the happy birthday video she sentme. Thank you so much! 3 _

_._

**Chapter 5**

**.**

The air felt like it got thicker with each step I took – a little more polluted, a little stuffier. _This_ was precisely why I had chosen to get a job in the suburbs, rather than in the city. Well that, and the tiny fact that I was maybe, a _little _bit desperate at the time. Just maybe. But I don't want to dwell on insignificant details like that. Pshh.

Miroku was silent as we walked into downtown Iwaki. It was Aizawa's turn to take the day hours this week, so I had agreed to show Miroku the city. That decision – I was now regretting. I mean seriously. Why were they so many people around on fucking _Monday _afternoon?

I assumed most were probably coming home from work, or perhaps on their way to meetings, judging from the number of people in suits walking down the streets. The occasional kid in a school uniform would pass by every now and then, but it was mostly just the people in formal attire.

I never liked suits, I mused to myself. There was something about them that was just plain repellant. Maybe I was just drawing parallels to my old warden/torturer Naraku, but for whatever reason, their charm was lost on me. All the indignant bastards that had somehow messed up my life had worn suits – if we excluded the number of pea-brained meat sacks at the camps.

"I hate them." I muttered as a man in a pinstriped navy suit and Bluetooth headset brushed past me.

"Hate who?" Miroku asked.

"Suits."

There was a moment of silence following my grumblings. Then Miroku said, with a shrug of his shoulders: "On the contrary, I find that suits come in very handy."

I cocked an eyebrow and waited for an explanation.

"You see," he started, with an exaggerated hand gesture." If you are wearing a suit, people are going to think you are an important business person. Someone with authority."

He turned to me and peered at my face.

"Tell me, if a man showed up at your front step wearing shorts and a t-shirt; and claimed he was a government official – would you believe him?"

I shrugged and turned away. I had to admit, he did have a point. Still though, I was reluctant to believe that a suit could make so much of a difference.

"You still don't believe me do you Inuyasha?" I didn't answer. "I'll prove it to you then."

…..

Five o'clock found me in an overly crowded shopping mall, searching for a store that sold suits. The sights and sounds overwhelmed me. To a normal person, they would seem…well, normal; but to me they were magnified by a hundred times, and accordingly a hundred times more annoying.

I trudged behind Miroku as he skimmed for suits in displays. About twenty minutes later, he turned abruptly and walked into a small store on our left.

I sat on a low stool by the entrance as Miroku rummaged through the racks of jackets, grabbing a couple as he went by.

"How does this one look?" he asked, pulling on a gray blazer.

"Just fucking chose one and let's get outta here."

He frowned, rolled his eyes at me and continued his search. Every now and then he would pull something off a hanger and examine it – then either add it to the rapidly growing pile of clothes on his arm, or put it back in its place.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the wall. It didn't block out the sounds, but at least it blocked out the sights to an extent. I felt myself drifting off… drifting into a peaceful sleep… A nice, relaxing –

"Inuyasha let's go!"

I groaned and opened my eyes. Miroku was standing in front of me, waving a hand in front of my face. My eyes fixed on the bag in his hand, probably containing the suit.

"How did you even pay for that?" I asked, standing up and flexing my arms.

"Inuyasha, I'm on the run; not broke."

"As if that's and upgrade."

He chuckled and walked back the way we had come, grinning. Did getting a stupid suit really make him that happy? Somehow I doubted it… He had to have had an ulterior motive. It was impossible for him to be this happy just because he had gone shopping.

"So what's the catch?" I asked him as we were heading out the mall.

"What catch?"

There was an unmistakable gleam in his eyes as he said it, and though he tried very hard to mask it, I could see the edges of a grin starting to form.

"Why did you get the suit? Why did you _really _get the suit, Miroku?

He smiled.

We walked back towards the more suburban part of Iwaki. Miroku had very suspiciously said that he had seen enough of the city. I was relieved really, but there was a nagging _something _in my gut that said this wasn't going anywhere good.

"This ought to do." Miroku mused as we came to a stop in front of a large mansion-like house. This was most definitely not going anywhere good. He walked towards the telephone pole on the side of the street and opened a panel. Crap.

Something glinted in the semi-darkness. He had a knife in his hand. How and where he had carried it I didn't know, but he was holding freaking knife in his hand. A second passed, I heard something click, a rip, then a low buzz."

"What are you –"

Simultaneously, all the lights on the street blackened. Every single light that had been shining out the windows of the houses was now gone, every single street light was out.

Definitely not good.

Miroku ran behind a patch of bushes, and emerged a minute later wearing the suit he had bought. He shoved the bag in my hand, that now held his usual clothes. Walking up the steps to the front porch - he rang the doorbell. Once, twice, three times.

Someone unlocked the bolt from inside, and the door opened. My heightened vision was the only thing that enabled me to see the slim figure in the doorway. She was probably around 20, maybe a little younger.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Ma'am, as I'm sure you can see, there has been a power shortage in the street. I'm from the electrical company, Takezawa Co. We suspect it might be because of an overload in a fuse box in one of the houses. We were informed to check them. May I please come in?"

"One moment." Said the girl, closing the door lightly.

I stalked up the steps in annoyance. This was his plan?

"Now that was a good scenario if I say so myself, what more could it have?" asked Miroku, with a triumphant grin.

"I little bit of truth might have been nice?"

"I don't like to mar a good scam with the truth, Inuyasha. It would be an insult to my artistic integrity. Now be a good friend and get lost. I'll give you a part of the earnings is you just shut up."

"Fine. How did you even know the company name?"

"I read the panel, dimwit.

I walked back down the porch steps and leaned against a wide tree in the garden. It was almost pitch black now, and if I was having trouble seeing, I doubted anyone could see _me. _The streets were completely empty now, not a car in sight.

The door to the house re-opened, and the girl was now holding a candle.

"Come in." I heard her say. I huffed, and started to walk as the door closed behind the two.

A car passed by me on my way back to the bar, the lights blinding me momentarily. I cursed under my breath and kept walking, Miroku's bag of clothes still clutched in my hand.

If I didn't get anything out of this, I was killing Miroku tomorrow.


	7. Unknown

_/a.n./ Well I'm finally all set in my dorm and back on track after a long line of late updates, so I'll be updating every week (most likely weekends). Just to answer __**inukag01234**__'s question: yes, I am a fan of The Redemption of Althalus, and that quote is one of my absolute favorites, so I just had to use some abbreviation of it somewhere – but hey, I altered it, so I didn't feel like doing a disclaimer. Hope that helped! _

_And please review, it means the world to me._

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**Chapter 6**

_Kagome's POV_

.

I grabbed my keys and tossed them in my bag, aiming for the door; then spun around at the last moment and snatched my scarf from the table in the hall. December had hit Tokyo pretty bad this year.

Lunch with my sister had never been my favorite pass-time; but it's not like I had anything better to do. The apartment door opened with a familiar screech of metal hinges as a gush of cold air swept across my face. Wrapping my scarf around my neck twice and cursing my pledge to walk, I headed into downtown Shinjuku.

The café where I would meet her was pretty close, but with the wind and the biting cold, it seemed like ages until I reached it. When I finally walked in, teeth practically chattering and hands frozen, Sango was waiting for me at a table in the back. I blew on my hands, attempting to restore some of the heat they had lost. Smart move Kagome, smart move… Because I mean who needs gloves when it's freaking freezing outside, right? Smart…

Sango conjured up a small smile as I approached the table and gestured towards the seat across from her. It was a half-hearted gesture, but I appreciated it. At least she was trying, unlike me – as I was just standing there like an expressionless idiot. Snapping back into reality a moment later, I plopped down on the chair and crossed my ankles.

A waitress came over to the table as I was rubbing my hands together and placed a plate in front of me. Tempura and rice. I looked at Sango questioningly.

"I thought you would like it." She supplied. Well that was….nice? I wrapped my hands around the hot bowl and sighed. Sweet, sweet relief…

Popping a piece of tempura in my mouth; "So it's cold outside…" I said, in a failed attempt at making conversation.

"Yes, very."

Then I looked at her, and she looked at me, and we both smiled; seeing how ridiculous we both sounded. I placed my elbows on the table and connected my hands under my chin, resting my head.

"How are you?" I asked in a small voice.

"Pretty good."

I cocked my head to the side and peered at her face. "No, how _are_ you?" I stressed. I watched as her brows furrowed for a second, then her stoic face faltered. She knew that I had seen it, and she knew that I would want and explanation.

"Maybe not so good."

"Define _not so good_."

She averted her gaze, and chose to stare at the table instead. Neither of us said anything, and as the minutes ticked by and the tempuras in my bowl slowly disappeared, I started to get anxious.

"A little manic, delusional, bordering on masochistic and I think I am a semi-insomniac."

My head snapped up to look at her face. Her eyes resembled flat stones. No sparkle, no emotion – just flat brown. This was way more than I had anticipated; and now I was starting to regret my pressing on the matter. Sango was staring at me, expecting a reply. Though my reply was a question she was probably not all that enthusiastic about answering.

"Why?"

She clenched her hands together and looked at the table again. If I didn't know her better I would say she was on the verge of crying – but I _did_ know her better, and I knew that it would take a great deal to make Sango cry. Answering a question didn't even begin to qualify.

"A lot of things."

I sighed in agitation. "Sango, if you don't tell me what's bothering you, how the hell do you suppose I help you?!"

"I never asked for your help."

"I never asked for your permission."

She looked up again, straight into my face, and for a moment I thought I saw tears welling in her eyes.

"Fine. I miss dad, and every part of that fucking house reminds me of him. I can't move out, because mom's gone semi-crazy and I'm afraid she's gonna hurt herself; she doesn't talk much anymore either. Souta's in Zurich, and I haven't spoken to him in months. I can't sleep because I have a job that doesn't let me sleep. My employers are expecting a finished project by the end of the month and I'm not even halfway finished yet. Then when I'm done for the day I have too much on my mind to close my eyes. When I do manage to sleep, I wake up screaming. It's cold, I hate the cold. I'm somewhere in the middle of closing the window and jumping out the window – so there."

Never in my deepest imagination had I expected Sango to speak this much about herself – or to speak about herself to me. We sat there in silence; Sango breathless from speaking so fast and I, breathless from listening to her. As the waiter approached our table, I called her over and asked for the check.

Sango was still staring at me. Eyes a little wide, hands clenched in front of her. And me? I just stood there like the worst sister in the history of forever. But the sad part was that I had nothing to say – there was nothing I _could _say anyway. I had no solutions, no tips - nothing. I just hoped that Sango understood that my silence was caused by my lack of helpful ideas, and not by my lack of thought and regard.

After I paid the check, we started to walk back down the road I had come. The wind had subsided a bit, but it was still cold. I stuffed my hands in the pockets of my coat, envying Sango's gloves. Even with all the stuff going on in her head, she had somehow managed to remember them. Score one for Sango.

My face was unbearably dry, and I was almost positive my cheeks were flushed red from the cold. Rummaging in my bag, I found a small mirror in one of its pockets and flipped it open. My cheeks were indeed red, and they hurt to the touch. Just as I was about the put the mirror back, something caught my attention. I held the mirror a little to my right and angled it so that I could see behind me.

There was a man walking behind us, clad in a dark gray suit. Of course being in Shinjuku meant that seeing men in suits was as common as seeing clouds – but there was something about him that didn't quite fit. Then it hit me. He was wearing sunglasses. And as normal as that sounds, it didn't fit – because there was no sun to protect your eyes from, seeing as the whole city was covered with dark rainclouds.

"Sango, " I started in a hushed tone. "Turn left at the next corner."

"Why shoul-"

"Sango, just do it and don't ask why."

To my relief, she complied and turned left. I checked the mirror, and the man was still there. I'm such a lucky person, aren't I? I felt my heartbeat accelerate, and despite the cold weather, my palms had begun to sweat.

"Sango, there's a little passage up ahead on the right, turn there again." I said through my teeth. She complied wordlessly this time. Here's the thing though: there was nothing at the end of that passage. It was the driveway of an old inhabited house, and lead straight back to the sidewalk.

Gravel crunched beneath our feet as we walked across the driveway. When we had reached the middle, I flipped the mirror open again. I felt my heart drop to my stomach. Not only was he there, but he seemed to be walking faster than before. Sango kept shooting me confused glances, but I ignored them all. Someone was following us – or maybe just me, or maybe just her – but either way it didn't matter. What mattered was that there was a creep following us, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do.

Once we got to the sidewalk I calmed down a bit, seeing as we weren't alone here. People were walking up and down the streets and we blended in better. I increased my pace as we walked, and Sango automatically adjusted hers to fit mine.

"Kagome slow down." She said incredulously. I couldn't speak, I just handed her the mirror. She stared at it for a moment, puzzled. Then, understanding dawned on her face. She must have spotted the man. Ah, the perks of having a smart sister. She shoved the mirror into my hand and started to walk even faster.

Somewhere along the way, we started to run.

One look behind my shoulder was enough to show me that the man was running too.

"Find a cab!" I shouted as we weaved our way through groups of people, hitting someone every now and then. Pushing past people who stood in our way, we made it to the edge of the road. Maybe my luck had turned around a bit after all. A woman – probably around my age – was walking towards a cab parked on the curb. She was walking, we were running. It must have been a shock for her to see two people running ahead of her and jumping into her cab.

I slammed the door behind me hard. I was breathless, I was panting, and I could see the man advancing towards the cab.

"Iwaki!" I yelled at the cabbie. He gave me a skeptical look. "Ma'am that's hours away."

"Just fucking drive!"

Though he seemed startled, he stepped on it as soon as the road was available, and seeing as the man following us seemed to be working alone – there was no way he would be able to catch up to us. Unless of course he decided to stop a random car on the road and say "_Follow that cab!"._ That would have been cool. And possibly lethal, you know, for _us_.

Sango was still panting a little when we left the city – from the running, or from the general concept of being followed, I don't know. I didn't have the heart to ask her either. To be honest, I was afraid she was going to break down. I had never seen my sister so fragile and defenseless; and it was scaring the shit out of me.

The sky was already darkening when we reached the outskirts of Iwaki. Deciding to stay at a motel for the night, we paid the cabbie a large wad of cash supplied by my ever generous sister and got off.

"There's a bar over there," Sango said, pointing towards a shabby old building right off the highway. "Wanna go in?"

I nodded, mostly because I was freaking thirsty and a little because I had no energy left to contradict her. We walked silently towards the building.

The door to the bar opened with the sound of bells clinking together. "Aizawa you're on!" I heard someone shout, then a door slammed somewhere in the back of the bar. It wasn't very crowded, just a couple of people scattered here and there. I guessed this was the beauty of the suburbs. Even this bar was a refreshing sight after the bustling crowds of people in Tokyo.

We sat at the counter and ordered two beers. I was a little shocked that Sango would order beer though. With the way she carries herself you'd think that Moët Chandon champagne would be beneath her. Nevertheless, I didn't point it out. I felt like I had to be extra cautious around Sango after her breakdown at the restaurant earlier. Not that I had been able to help her…

Once our thirst had been sated, we found a small motel near the bar and checked in under fake names. Here's another beauty of the suburbs – they don't even ask for IDs when you check in. The motel wasn't exactly what you would call luxurious, and there seemed to be and awful lot of scantily clad women prancing around in stilettos, entering rooms. Sango seemed even more uncomfortable than me, and that was saying something.

We found our room near the end of the corridor, and got in. I suppressed a laugh, seeing Sango's scrunched up face. The room was a little less then minimum quality; but I supposed it beat falling asleep on a bar stool – or maybe not.

"I don't even want to the think about what happened here before we came." Sango said, holding up a pillow with the tips of her nails. I chuckled.

"It'll be fine, we'll sleep on our coats. Just be happy you have a place to put your head."

"I'm not sure I want to put my head on anything in this room right now."

"I find that offensive dear sister," I said, clutching at my chest in mock hurt. She chuckled a little, then spread her coat over the bed and lay down, cringing. Turning off the lights, I did the same and lay down next to her.

A couple moments passed in comfortable silence.,

"Kagome?"

"Hmm?"

"What about mom?"

Well crap, I hadn't thought about that. "We'll call her in the morning."

"Okay."

Silence again.

"Kagome?"

"Yes?"

"Where do we go from here?"

I stared at the ceiling. I had no idea where we would go from here. I had no idea why we had ended up here in the first place either. I couldn't answer her, because I didn't have a tangible answer to give.

"Goodnight Sango." I said. She paused for a second. "Goodnight."

Whatever had to be solved, I would solve tomorrow. Hopefully.

.

.

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	8. Violet

_/a.n/ Okay, okay, don't kill me. I know I said I would get back on track but I still don't have all my classes and activities organized so I barely have any time to write. So please, I beg of you, bear with me a little longer. I know I have disappointed you guys with the late updates, but I'm really trying…_

_._

_._

**Chapter 7**

_Kagome's POV_

.  
I woke up with my hand hitting the backboard of the bed. The springs creaked in protest as I sat up and stretched my arms above my head. I had a bad cramp in my neck and I was almost sure that I had somehow twisted my ankle in my sleep. Well this was a bit less than pleasant. More like a lot, but there was no point in holding on to negative thoughts now, was there? A quick glance around the room proved to break my former thesis however.

With a cross between a scream and a grunt, I fell back down on my pillow and opted to stare at the cracks in the ceiling. The room had seemed much more acceptable with a couple large glasses of beer in the belly, and now that the world wasn't mostly fuzzy anymore - it was... well, pretty disgusting.

The sheets - I didn't even want to think about the last time they were washed - had little tears here and there and some unidentified (ugghh) stains. I considered putting a blindfold over Sango's eyes before she woke up; 'cause you know, I'm sure nobody in the motel wanted to wake up to the sound of outraged screams.

First mission of the day: find a good hotel.

I pushed the sheets off my legs with a huff and stepped out of bed; then walked toward the little window across from the door. Tiny raindrops had dried on the glass, leaving semi-transparent stains littered on its surface. Pressing my hand against the cool glass, I closed my eyes and breathed out a sigh. Just hours ago I had been in my house, and now I was here somewhere on the outskirts of Iwaki - miles away, and with no idea what to do.

Hell, I didn't even know why I was here! One minute I had been walking, another I had been running, then I was speeding away in a cab with no destination and no ideas. I had dragged my sister along for the ride. I didn't know if I was sad for myself, or if I was sad for _her._

Worst of all - I still didn't have the slightest idea as to why we had been followed, or who had done it, or why. I was scared as hell, with nobody to comfort me.

Sango grumbled behind me, and I turned around just in time to see her jolt upright, a gurgled scream ripping from her throat.

Maybe the motel residents would just have to tolerate screams as an alarm this morning…

Forehead clammy, hands shaking a little, she dropped back onto the mattress. And what did I do? I just stood there; because that's just the kind of retarded idiot I am.

"Bad..dream." She managed finally.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Not particularly," she said. Her face twisted into a disgusted frown as she took in her surroundings.

"Did you carry me to another motel when I was asleep or something?!"

"Beer hit you too hard sister?"

She rolled her eyes at my half - sarcastic remark and flung herself to her feet, dusting off her pants as if she had been sleeping on the road - which would probably be cleaner, but I wasn't about to tell that to her.

"Uggh, headache." she murmured, rummaging through her purse before producing a box of Tylenol. But with a quick look around, we realized that shockingly (!) there was no water in the room. No complaints there, since it gave me an excuse to get out of the room.

The smell of fresh rain and earth encompassed me once I had stepped out of the splintering door of the motel. It was a pleasant change after the choked up air of the room. We decided that the best thing to do would probably be to head into town and search for a un-cockroach-infested hotel with breathable air – a task that soon proved to be a little difficult since barely any cars passed by.

After about an hour of walking, we finally managed to hail a cab. More houses were scattered around the country by now, and I felt safer knowing that there were more people around. Downtown wasn't all that far away, especially since traffic was scarce. I breathed a sigh of relief when I stepped out of the taxi and into the crowded sidewalk.

If I closed my eyes, I could almost believe that I was still in Tokyo. Almost, but not quite.

After a little searching and asking around, we found a suitable hotel a couple blocks away from the main street. Sango was relieved, and I had to admit that so was I. I hadn't been all that happy about our previous hotel; if you could even call it one.

When we had left what little luggage we had brought along in our new and not-below-acceptable-standard room; Sango decided to go out, and I opted to eat. My stomach had been running on bad beer for almost a full day, and it wasn't exactly what you could identify as pleasant.

The food was good, and tasted better with the hunger. I hadn't bothered to go down to the dining hall; instead I had called for room service. Still, it hadn't stopped me from assessing the man who had arrived with my food. So early in the game and I had already started to see everyone as a potential enemy.

Sango returned a couple hours later with multiple shopping bags clutched in both hands and a smile adorning her tired face.

"Did you know this place has a bar on the rooftop?" she chirped, dumping the bags on one of the beds.

"No?"

"Now you do."

She rummaged through a couple of bags before producing a dark blue dress and tossing it to me.

"What the -?!"

"The bar thing wasn't a fact, it was an invitation. Well maybe not an invitation; we're going."

"So I'm guessing we are making a habit of going to bars every night now?" I asked as I lay the dress on the other bed. It was pretty, sure; but a little too ostentatious for me to be comfortable in.

"If I had to come here on a second's decision, I think I have the right to decide where we drink."

Well, she had a point. Sort of.

"Fine then."

It was already darkening when we left our rooms and started walking down the corridor. Sango in a tight black ensemble and heels; me in the ridiculously flashy blue dress and…wait for it…_heels. _I should have known Sango wouldn't have let me leave in _normal _outerwear. I guess I sort of owed it to her though. I took her with me on my escape at a moment's notice; and she got to play dress up with me now. Touché.

The elevator arrived with a _ding_, and as we -being me, Sango, and a couple other residents- piled into it I couldn't help but feel a bit weary. Really, universe? You put me in a crammed space with people in _suits?!_ Thank you, thanks a bunch…

The short ride up was eventless, to my relief; but as the doors slid open again with another small _ding, _I realized that my relief was fleeting. Well, what did I expect from a penthouse bar? Of course there would be a bunch of people in suits. I groaned inwardly and hoped that I would get hammered enough to forget about them all. Yes, that would be my plan for today.

We found two stools near the counter and sat down, our backs to the ongoing events of the bar. They didn't concern me much, I wasn't here to be picked up, and I wasn't here to be puked on – though the latter could possible happen nevertheless.

Four shots and one wine later, someone approached us. Almost instinctively, my eyes started scanning my surroundings, searching for exits.

"Hey."

He was tall-ish, with tousled brown hair and blue, almost violet eyes. I could have said he was handsome, but I had a significant hate for men who opted to prey on drunken women. This was no exception.

"Fuck off." I grumbled. He faced me, abashed. It was faked, I could tell. The corners of a smile were beginning to form on his lips.

"I apologize if I have offended you; I just wanted to buy a drink for this lovely lady here." He said in a soft voice that I would have fallen for if we were in a different location. He turned towards Sango, who was still refusing to look at him and lay a hand on her shoulder.

"What would you like?" he crooned.

"Some peace," she said, still not looking. It wasn't odd for my sister to be this stubborn, so I hadn't seen anything out of place in the gesture. Apparently, _he _had. Hand still clutching her shoulder, the man twisted her around in the bar stool. I had expected at least a slap from Sango. Something, something that would discourage the man.

Instead, she froze.

Almost instinctively, I started searching for something potentially dangerous about the man. Knives, guns protruding out of his pockets, coms, cables, _something – _but found nothing. Yet Sango was still impersonating a statue, and the man was doing the same.

"What's go-"

She ran.

The man turned to face me, a pleading expression on his face. He looked so helpless for a second that I almost felt like crying; but my sister had already reached the door, and knowing her – if I didn't follow her now she would disappear on her own.

I made a beeline for the door, bumping into several people on my way and earning more than a couple of swears in return. Sango had disappeared through the door. I hoped that she hadn't gone too far yet. She wouldn't want to go to the elevator, I knew; since there was bound to be a crowd. I considered checking the room, but that was the first place she would think I would look at, so I ruled out that option as well. Instead, I took off my shoes and broke for the stairs.

I must have caught up to her, because I could hear the click of heels against polished wood.

I found her at the base of the stairs, hair disheveled, face flushed and eyes red.

"What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?!" I asked incredulously, still panting a little.

She rested her back against the wall and closed her eyes, shoulders shaking with each breath. It was colder than I had anticipated, a draft running through a narrow door that lead to the alleyway. Wrapping my arms around myself I walked towards her and sat next to where she stood and patted the spot next to me. She sunk down gradually, folding her legs to the side. She had been crying, it was obvious – but I knew she would never admit it.

Sometimes I thought that that was the only thing I had in common with my sister. We both resented tears in public. It was a way of defense really, and seeing her like this now showed just how awful she was feeling. It definitely scared me more that the prospect of being followed by a couple of psychopaths.

"You gonna talk?" I asked in a hushed tone. My breaths had already returned to normal. She didn't give an answer at first – just kept staring ahead at the opposite wall. Small sobs escaped her mouth every now and then, and though she struggled a great deal to hide them; she knew I could hear them all. She also knew I was waiting for an explanation.

"Did you know him?" I asked tentatively. Dealing with the normal Sango was a hard enough task on its own – I was sure that dealing with crying Sango would be equivalent to a suicide mission. She responded with a small nod that would have gone unnoticed if I hadn't been expecting it.

"Who is he?"

No answer.

"Sango?"

Still no answer.

I sighed, exasperated. There was no point in pushing her when she was so determined to stay silent. She would speak eventually, if not right now.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." I said in a much softer tone as I stood up and offered my hand to her. She ignored it and got up on her own accord, brushing off the back of her dress and adjusting it a bit. We walked back up the stairs slowly, our former fervor already having evaporated. Her shoes clicked with each step, and I started to think of them as seconds ticking on a clock. _Forty…Forty-one…Forty two... _

Sango stayed silent the entire way, refusing to speak. My legs were burning by the time we reached out floor. Shoes still clutched in my hand, we walked down the corridor to our rooms. Taking the key out of my small bag, I pushed it into the opening and twisted it to the right. It didn't budge. My eyebrows knitted together; I twisted it to the other side and heard the bolt click into place, locking the door. I twisted it back and put my hand on the handle, thinking. Had I forgotten to lock it when we left?

I pushed the handle down slowly, listening to the hinges creak as the door swung open.

A pair of violet eyes stared back at me.

I let out an involuntary shriek.

Ah hell.


	9. Pleading

_/a.n./ Reviews really are my biggest encouragement. Because with stats, I know that someone clicked on my story; but with reviews I know that someone really cared. So please, PLEASE, review; and make an aspiring author happy _

.

**Chapter 8**

**.**

_Kagome's POV_

.

What does one do when a random guy just happens to be waiting in one's hotel room? Why yes, one might scream; one might call for security (if one was smart enough to get the number – and sadly most of these "ones" in question aren't); one might aim a kick or a punch if one is confident enough; or one might simply stand in the doorway and gawk at this infiltrator. Yes, the last choice seems like the most plausible one.

Sango froze at my side, one foot inside the room, one foot still lingering on the threshold. I shoved my hand in my mouth to keep myself from screaming again, breathing deep through my nose. Okay, I needed to calm down for a second. In the dim light from the hallway that flooded the room, I could now tell that it was the man from the bar.

Well this just got a smidge more unpleasant.

A couple seconds passed in complete silence. Then;

"Umm.., hi."

Okay, now pause this scene for a minute. _Hi?! _Really?! You break into someone's hotel room and get caught – then you say _hi?! _There is a highway between stupidity and politeness; and this guy was now lying in the middle of it.

I'm not even sure the tension in the room could be _scratched_ by a chainsaw.

Sango screamed.

With a lurch, she tackled him to the ground, clawing at his face and trying to aim punches. One must have hit his stomach, as the air in his lungs left him with a hiss.

"Sango!" I yelled, trying to pry her away from him; but as she was with everything else I did, she remained unfazed. My hand locked around her arms, attempting to stabilize her. She was shaking – from what, I didn't know. I yelled her name again, hoping it would penetrate this time. It did, to an extent. Her hands stopped slashing, and she backed away a bit, breathing through her teeth to it sounded like a wheeze.

My own breaths were shallow as pulled her away from the man and next to one of the beds in the room. I could smell the metallic tint of blood in the air. Looking down at Sango's hands, I found its source. The tips of her fingers were stained a murky red. It was the first time I had ever seen my sister physically harm someone; and it scared me more than I would care to admit. I didn't know she had it in her.

There was still another prospect that plagued my mind though – the man hadn't fought back. He had simply chosen to let Sango scratch his face until she drew blood; he had simply let her hit her. He hadn't even budged.

The man struggled to sit upright, hand on the left side of his face where Sango's nails had left a particularly deep gash. Somebody _had_ to start giving me answers right about now.

"I'm sorry," the man said suddenly.

Okay, pause again. Isn't Sango the one who attacked him?! Well this just got more interesting – or frustrating, depending on your point of view.

Sango stood up, shoulders still shaking a little, hair disheveled, taking in deep breaths from her mouth. She looked absolutely livid.

"_Sorry?!" _she shrieked. "Sorry for _what,_ exactly?!"

"I.. I'm s-" he started, but she cut him off. "_What the fuck are you sorry for Miroku?!"_

Whoa, mama; let's back up a bit here. She knows his name?!

Sango took a step forward, and as I threw my arm in front of her to keep her from moving any further, I saw that she was digging her fingernails into her palms. She wanted to calm down; she _wanted _to get a grip. But it was almost like she…couldn't. Slowly, succinctly, I reached out towards her hand and tried to pry her fingers away. She resisted; didn't budge; instead, she promptly pulled her hand away from mine.

Across from us, _Miroku_ had his hands raised in front of him in the international sign for "I give up."

What he was giving up on, I still didn't know though…

There was a pregnant silence where Sango and Miroku's eyes were locked; and my eyes flicked back and forth between the two. Since nobody jumped in to break the silence, I thought I would give it a shot.

"So, umm," I started, trying to put my thoughts into order. "How did you two meet?"

Maybe I should have just stayed silent. Miroku looked pained, and Sango looked like she wanted to claw his eyes out. I glanced at her hands and took a sharp intake of breath when I saw the blood trickling down her palms. A couple droplets slid down her fingers and dripped onto the floor, leaving dark red spots on the cream-beige wall-to-wall carpet. Either she really didn't feel her nails cutting into her flesh, or she was too numb to feel it. The latter seemed worse; and it seemed more plausible.

When she spoke, she spoke through her teeth. "At my threshold." Her hands quivered with her words, and her nails sunk in deeper, if possible.

Well then. Fuck.

Violet eyes shot back and forth between the two of us, either expecting me to ask another question or expecting _her _to lash out again. It was as if he had shrunken in on himself; reduced to a cowering ball of shame. Well at least he felt remorse for what he had done – whatever it was. The thought put a lump in my throat and a knot in my stomach. Whatever _it _was, it had to be pretty bad.

"Did you..?" I said nonchalantly, ignoring the seething anxiety that was starting to creep up on me. My eyes found Miroku's, looking at him questioningly. He pressed his lips together.

"Umm, yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Suppose?"

"Well, we didn't exactly _meet _until we were _inside _the house…

Ahem*insinuate*Ahem. That put a couple scenarios in my mind.

Well then.

Sango chose to elaborate on the matter at that moment, to my surprise. She was curt with her answer, and it was basically a straight forward way of putting one of the more prominent scenarios.

"He wanted to fuck me, and I fell for it. Many more times than _one._."

Miroku's expression turned pained again. Mine was probably outraged.

"You fucked her and you left?!"

"No, no it wasn't like that!" he pleaded, taking a step forward. "I didn't leave, I came back! I came back!"

Sango huffed. "No you didn't."

Miroku's eyes were wild as he crossed the short distance between himself and Sango, and put his hand on her shoulders.

"I came back and you weren't there. Then I couldn't…. I couldn't come back again."

Sango's voice was dangerously calm when she addressed him. "_Why?"_

"Because, Sango, it's a little hard to jump over a thirty-foot wall, especially one that's guarded by a bunch of men who wouldn't hesitate for a second to kill you!"

Miroku's eyes were wide and pleading as he stared straight into Sango's eyes. Sango was indifferent. My sister and I weren't similar in many ways, but we were similar in the way we defended ourselves. We constructed walls, much like the wall the government had constructed: keeping the malice, the hate, and the destruction on the outside and only showing a cool, calm façade. Only later did you realize that destruction and salvation were tied together. Salvation lay in the ashes of destruction, and destruction resided where salvation did. It was the cause for it; the invisible cause that we always failed to see.

Sango had closed up again. Though it was nice not to have her lashing out at any given second, it was also unnerving – not to know when her wall would break down. The pause stretched on for seconds minutes, until Sango straightened her shoulders, raised her chin just a fraction higher and spoke in the same composed and forced tone she did before.

"Get out." Lot

There was nothing more to contemplate, nothing more to say. Her words were clear.

Miroku's shoulders slumped in failure as he looked at her one more time. I could have sworn I had glimpsed tears. Sango hadn't moved an inch from her spot, feet planted firmly on the ground, nails still embedded in her palms. I knew she was exerting a lot of effort to keep the wall up; and though it was probably wrong to wait for the moment when she would collapse, I wanted to be ready for it. No luck there, of course…

Miroku's steps were sluggish as he sagged towards the door and put a foot on the threshold.

"If you want to, I'm at Mizaki's Bar a little out of town…" he said, putting his last drop of hope in that little piece of information. Though I had no reason to, I felt sorry for him.

The door closed behind him with a dull thud, and like a trigger pulled to signal the beginning of a race, it marked the first second of Sango's breakdown. Her legs gave out first, leading her to collapse next to the bed, hitting her head on the rim in the process. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, but there were no sobs; just broken breaths.

I sat next to her and crossed my legs, keeping a hand on hers. I wasn't practiced in comforting people, I never had been. For crap's sake I wasn't even good at comforting myself. Maybe it would have some comforting effect on her…

Sango cried well into the night, and though I knew I had no prominent purpose in sitting there, it was all I could do. She didn't speak a for a long while, and maybe it was better like that. If she had any questions, I didn't have any answers, and making answers up wasn't even an option.

When she spoke, her voice was choked, like the voice of someone who had escaped from the verge of drowning.

"You know what the worst part is?" she rasped, trying to wipe away the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

"I'm the one that fell."

I hadn't understood what she had meant at the time.


	10. Eyes Closed

_/a.n./ First of all, I'd like to apologize to you guys for updating on such irregular intervals. I really do want to be able to update every two weeks or so, but my schedule doesn't let me… Today was the first day in a month that I found any time to actually sit down and write anything. I'm really exerting myself this year, since I'll have even less time next year… The good news is, I'll have a five-day break next week so I want to get a couple more chapters done in that duration. Please don't lose faith in me, I'm really trying…_

_._

**Chapter 9**

**.**

_Kagome's POV_

.

I woke up with my head hitting hard wood. With a groan, I opened my eyes slowly, only to realize that I was still half sitting, half lying on the floor. My leg – which I was very conveniently sitting on – was bent in an awkward angle which I knew would prevent me from walking normally for a good hour or so. I craned my neck to the side a bit to get a view of Sango. Her head was thrown back onto the blanket on the bed, her legs neatly folded to the side. Absentmindedly, I rubbed my eyes and made a move to get up.

Sango stirred next to me, mumbling something unintelligible under her breath. I froze, not wanting to awaken her just yet. Dark, bruise-like circles had formed under her puffy eyes. She had always had them, but I hadn't realized that they were such a prominent feature of hers.

Again; very slowly I rose from where I sat, ignoring the cramp in my leg. I plopped down on the bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, then rested my head in my hands for a moment or two, just breathing. I tried to distract myself by concentrating on the ticking of my watch – it showed 3pm.

Last night had been…different, to say the least. I didn't understand. It was as if a bunch of miscellaneous pieces had been thrown in front of me and someone expected me to somehow make something of logic out of them.

So many times I had wished to just go with the flow; to abandon plans and schedules and to just live spontaneously. Now that all my plans had been thrown away, it felt more like I had fallen into a river, and I was being pulled along with the current against my will. Could that really be called freedom? Maybe not so much.

It wasn't a nice feeling; and above all, it made me feel vulnerable. There was nothing I could anticipate, nothing I could try to foresee – and I felt lost. Searing pain pounded in my skull, disabling me from thinking. I shook my head a couple of times and pressed my fingers to my temples. These were the times when I wished I carried Apranax in my bag.

Sango stirred again, eyelids fluttering, then turned and rested her head on her arm. I chuckled to myself, remembering how she used to do the same thing when mom came to wake her up as a child. Sometimes these little flashbacks into the days when I used to wear frilly pink dresses made me forget about all the other ones that lead me to move out.

"Why do I feel like crap?" Sango mumbled into her arm.

"You_ look_ like crap too." I pointed out, my lips curving into a shadow of a smile.

"Thanks." she muttered, raising her head from her arm and narrowing her eyes.

She made a motion to get up, clutching the sideboard of the bed to get her balance back. Doing an overly exaggerated, cartoon-like yawn, she plopped down on the bed and closed her hands over her eyes.

"If I do this," she said in a voice partly muffled by her hands, "I can almost feel like I'm back in Tokyo." She opened her eyes again. "But when I do this… I know I'm not."

The shadow of that smile was gone now. I trudged to the bed and sat down next to her, fixing my eyes on the floor. "I guess that's the beauty of closing your eyes then, huh?"

"So can I just keep my eyes closed… all day?" she asked. I felt something shift in my chest. It had been a long time since the last time I had heard Sango speak in a childlike voice. Not even _as a child_, had she spoken with so little self-trust.

"Why lie to yourself for a whole day?"

"Because it's easier."

I sighed, resigned. "You can keep your eyes closed for another hour." I conceded. It looked like she would use that hour to its fullest. A little half-heartedly, I stood up and walked to the little cabled phone on the table across from the beds. Food would probably do me good just about now; and since going out for breakfast didn't seem like an option, I would call room-service. Hopefully, nobody would dump poison into our food or put a grenade in the tray.

After I had called the buffet, I went back and threw myself onto my own bed, closing my eyes. I tried to concentrate on the thought of approaching food, but failed miserably. It wasn't a shocker, really. Food was probably the last thing I could concentrate on at the moment. The whole thing with Sango still hadn't reached a conclusion. I wasn't going to push her or anything, not with the way she had been last night; but I still wanted answers. Something, _anything _would suffice; but all I could get right now was plain old nothing.

How absolutely wonderful.

A knock on the door disrupted my string of thought. I dragged myself to the door and opened it with a slight creak. A man in a black vest and bowtie stood in the doorway with a large tray in hand. At least there were no visible grenades anywhere. I managed a weak smile and took the tray, thanking him curtly. As I set the tray on the table and made a move to close the door, something caught my eye.

A piece of folded white paper had been shoved between the hinges and the wall and was now sticking out of the little opening. I felt my throat close up a little and strove to swallow. Paranoia didn't suit me well. I grabbed the side of the paper and carefully maneuvered it out of the opening, trying not to rip any part of it. I opened it, straightening it out against the wall. An address had been written on it in sloppy handwriting - the name of a bar a little out of Iwaki.

I frowned at the paper. One side of me wanted to go; but the other, perhaps more logical part of me said that it would be dangerous. Lately I found that couldn't trust either completely.

"Why do I hear doors closing?" Sango groaned from where she lay.

"I ordered room service."

The mention of food seemed to rouse her immediately. I chuckled a little as she jolted upright in bed, eyes open wide.

"Forgotten your pledge to keep your eyes closed, sister?"

"Pledge, schmedge," she said, getting up and walking towards the tray of food set on the table. She picked up a pair of chopsticks and dug into the rice, stuffing heaping mouthfuls into her mouth. My smile had come back again, just watching her pig out on the food. Sango had always seemed so poised and composed; so seeing her stuffing her face like this made me believe that there was still a part of her that longed to escape formalities and rules and the eyes of society. It made me feel like I could give our relationship a chance, a _real_ chance.

"Kagome, it's good. Eat." Sango managed to say, still trying to chew. I complied, picking up my own set of chopsticks and lunging at whatever food Sango hadn't managed to finish in the course of two minutes. When she was – finally – done, she sat up and dabbed at her mouth with a cloth napkin. And so lady-like Sango was back within three seconds.

"You know you can really be a pig when you eat." I pointed out lightheartedly. She shrugged, patting her stomach. "Hunger and poise don't mix."

My lips pressed together then, remembering the paper I had found. Picking it up from the table, I offered it to Sango. "I also found this…"

Sango seemed puzzled for a second as she looked at the paper, scrutinizing the writing etched on it.

"Where'd you find this?"

"Jammed between the wall and the door, this morning."

Her face fell a little as she set it back on the table. "So what are you planning on doing?" she asked. I shrugged. "Dunno. You?"

She looked torn for a second; then, slowly, a mask of absolute calm flooded over her face. I cocked an eyebrow. "Let's go then, it'll be some action."

I stared at her blank face. "Oh like we need more of that." I huffed.

Her mask faltered for just a fraction of a second at my words; just enough to let me understand that she was trying to maintain a façade. I decided not to let her in on the fact that I had noticed, and to just play along with whatever angle she was playing at.

"Then again, maybe it'll give us some answers?" I offered reluctantly.

"Exactly."


	11. Rain

_/a.n./ I'm so happy to finally find the time to update! It's a real relief to get some writing done.. Drop me a review and tell me what you think?_

.

**Chapter 10**

**.**

_Kagome's POV_

_._

It had started to rain by the time the cab pulled up beside a clutter of shabby looking buildings, all strewn close together. Little droplets of water dotted the gray cobbled sidewalk in the twilight as I looked out the window and tried once more to deduce if this was a good idea. Not that it mattered much, now that we were already here, but it would still be a nice change to ease my mind.

Sango paid the cabbie from her somehow still overflowing wallet and bid him thanks. We stepped out of the cab in a hurry and trotted down the sidewalk, trying not to get soaked in the rain. It had started to pick up, and I had a feeling it would turn into a full-blown storm by the time we were done with…

What, exactly? Done with what?

The neighborhood wasn't exactly what one could call pleasant. Most of the store lights were out even though it was still relatively early, and the majority of the houses looked abandoned. No cars had passed by since our arrival, but every now and then I caught glimpses of people walking around in the rain, standing at corners – waiting for someone perhaps.

We walked silently down the road, splashing into gradually growing puddles every now and then, heading in the general direction of the street that was supposed to pop in front of us right away.

Big surprise – it didn't.

It had been a good ten minutes since we had started walking, and still – nothing. Sango huffed in annoyance and stopped in her tracks, thrusting her hand into her bag to search for the little piece of paper that had been left at our door. Pulling it out a moment later, she stared at it, apprehensive.

"We should have passed it already," she said, more to herself than to me. Before I could object in any way, she turned to a small alleyway to her right and started to walk. I hurried after her, cursing myself for not thinking of getting an umbrella.

"Where the hell are you going?!" I yelled, hoping my voice would reach her over the rain. She seemed to pause for a second, then craned her neck to look back at me.

"No idea."

I felt a smile tugging at my lips. She wasn't planning anything. A small, childish Kagome in my mind started to jump up and down, yelling _I broke my sister!_ It wasn't a bad kind of break; it was the good kind. The kid in my head grinned widely as I broke into a light run to reach Sango. She had stopped at the end of the street – why, I didn't know. By the time I reached her, my jeans were soaked up to the knee and I was panting slightly. I looked up, only to come face to face with a grinning Sango.

Well then…

It took me a moment to understand the reason behind her grin. When I did, however, I had a feeling my face was a rounder replica of hers. There right in front of us, stood a bar. _The _bar; the one mentioned in the note.

Inadvertently, we had wordlessly agreed that we would stand under the pouring rain and simply gawk at the shabby building. Our reasons, unbeknownst even to us, resulted in Sango snapping out of her trance a moment later, just in time to notice that we were both soaking wet. She gestured towards the bar, and again wordlessly, I followed her across the road.

They had thought to place a mat at the entrance - its purpose defeated by the relentless onslaught of rain. The door set of a clutter of bells tied to the ceiling as Sango pushed it open, the sound of chiming metal following us as we stepped over the threshold and into the bar. It was a relief to be out of the rain, and the sudden waft of warm air emanating from a small furnace in the corner sufficed to calm my nerves a bit.

The place was small, and would have been stuffy if it were half full; the sole inhabitant of the bar was a man in his mid-seventies, sipping his drink quietly in the corner. Other than that, we were the only people there – courtesy of the weather, or perhaps the surrounding terrain. The bartender himself seemed to be absent; and that, of all things, managed to bring my semi-calmed nerves back to their peak. Almost expecting him to jump out from beneath the table, I walked a few short steps and situated myself on one of the booths, patting the seat next to me so Sango would sit down. She walked casually towards me and plopped down of the worn out dark red leather seat of the booth. Patches of yellow foam had started to show from under the red.

Sango seemed calm enough considering the fact that she had completely freaked out on me the previous night, but I had long before gotten used to her wavering personality. Calm and poised one moment, the next, she'll chop your head off while screaming like a manic, deranged ax murderer.

Yes, a _wavering _personality indeed.

We had sat there for more than forty five minutes when a back door – which I had failed to notice beforehand – opened with a metallic creak and a figure, clad in a black coat, stepped in and shook the rain out of his hair. I stared at the man as he took of his dripping coat and threw it on what I presumed to be a stool behind the bar. Then suddenly, he was looking at me, and I was looking at him, and Sango was clutching the edge of the leather booth, ripping it from its corners and digging her nails into the yellow foam.

Violet eyes pierced brown as fingernails pierced old leather.

Miroku took a tentative step towards our booth, eyeing his surrounding as he moved. I felt his eyes fix on me again, and an uncomfortable chill seemed to run down my spine at the notion.

You know how in a horror movie, the victim knows that something is going to go wrong but he/she has nothing to do but sit there and stare? No? Well, I do – it's not a particularly pleasant feeling.

As he neared the booth, I felt Sango cringe into her seat, though gradually she loosened her nails from the leather and foam. Miroku ended up sitting directly across from us, his eyes cast down, looking at his intertwined fingers.

I felt a small push against my leg, and realized that Sango was insinuating that I needed to go. A little pissed, I scooted off the edge of the booth and walked towards the door. Not that I was required to be that far away, but because the rain had subsided into a pleasant little drizzle in the time we had spent waiting; and I actually enjoyed the rain when it didn't pound into my skull.

A fine layer of mist had settled, sucking the color out of the surrounding area of the bar. What I could see from the few streetlamps scattered here and there was painted in the bleak grays. I felt a raindrop fall onto my nose and smiled a little, despite the nagging pang in my gut that probably wouldn't go away until we were safely tucked away in our hotel room. The wish of _home_ seemed a bit too distant now.

No screams had issued from inside yet, so I guessed all was relatively well up 'till now. Then again, Sango had a tenancy to push herself to her limits before she gave out and exploded, but I was going to keep my hopes up this time. Maybe this little meet-up wouldn't turn out so bad, or at least it wouldn't be lethal.

Isn't it just lovely when you classify a situation based on its level of lethality? Isn't it?

There was of course, still the issue of being followed; however that issue was definitely not one that we could solve - at least not at this moment. It was one that I would simply have to throw into the back recesses of my brain until something (but hopefully not some_one_) brought it up again.

The absence of screams coming from the bar resulted in a soothing effect on my nerves, but also a tightening in my lungs. The all-encompassing silence of the street, save for the light pitter patter of the rain was starting to creep up on me. I had started to wish for raised voices.

A breeze had picked up. Leaning against the wooden paneling of the building, I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on the raindrops hitting pavement. The breeze played with my hair, tangling it in my lashes. For a second, I thought to open my eyes.

I almost screamed.

A figure, shrouded from the thin layer of mist and sporting a long coat was walking directly towards me. I felt the pang return, full-force and my lungs squeezing tighter. My breaths were getting shorter and more frequent as he walked, unwavering towards my panic-stricken self. _It's one of them, _I though, thinking of the man who had chased us down the street back in Tokyo. Then another possibility dawned on me; one enforced by the recurring nightmares I still had - the ones where huge glass windows shattered, fragments flying in every direction, hitting people and pinning them to the ground. The ones were I drowned in a puddle of my own father's blood. The ones where bullets whizzed past, the fear of one hitting me more painful than the actual hit. The ones where the face of Sesshomaru swam before my eyes, then the face, the deliquescing memory of a friend with the same silver-white hair invaded my vision.

_One of them, _I thought.

The figure was getting closer, and from the way he walked I had managed to decipher him to be a man. Though a part of me wanted to scream and run into the building calling for help, another more curious (and more idiotic) part of me rooted me to my place. Back against the wall, hair flying into my eyes as I squinted through tiny raindrops and waited.

There was nothing openly antagonistic about his casual trot, nothing that screamed "I shall kill you," in the way his hand were stuffed deep in his pockets. _Holding a gun? A knife? _

He was close now, just a couple steps away, his boots splashing into the little puddles scattered on the street. He seemed to be taking no notice of me, which doubled the paranoia bubbling inside my stomach. For a moment, it looked as if he had stopped moving. My heart thumped in my eyes, making them ring.

Then he was in front of me, only a little to the left, still walking. For a moment I wondered if my worried were only paranoia-induced. He could have very well been just another man seeking a drink. He raised his head just a little bit, the way someone might raise their head to glance at a person standing at the entrance of a place they want to go into – which was exactly what I was doing. He stopped again, his chin rising up just a fraction.

The hood of his raincoat obscured a bigger portion of his face, so when I shot the same causally curious glance towards him, I couldn't much understand if he had noticed my looking.

He sidestepped into the bar, throwing his hood off and letting his long hair fall over his shoulders as I peeked from behind my shoulder. The atmosphere stirred a little, and in my peripheral vision, I saw Miroku turn towards the man from where he sat.

"_Inuyasha you stupid fuck, you're late for your shift. Serve the lady a drink."_

The ringing in my ears seemed to increase.

Then everything went black.


End file.
